


Journey Into Night

by ValkBlue (ValkAngie)



Series: Full Diagnostic [2]
Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Multi, Other, Season 1 Compliant, Slow Burn, Strong Language, Technobabble, horses everywhere, maybe even more so!, season 2 divergent, still relevant technobabble though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29918778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkAngie/pseuds/ValkBlue
Summary: Following the unforeseen events at Ford’s Gala, Vivian is trying to survive. And escape…
Series: Full Diagnostic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067126
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	Journey Into Night

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, readers! This is the beginning of a new story... One that is already fully written, but still currently translated. The part 1 is 18 chapters long and they are all translated. I'm still working on translating part 2, that will push the story to a 70 chapters long one, epilogue included. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy this wild ride.

Of all the mouthwatering courses on the Agave Plantation’s menu, it was on a simple grilled rib steak with a salad Vivian’s had her heart set on. It’s just that she had knots in her stomach since the morning…  
She had been barely up for an hour or so when she received a notification from doctor Ford. This guy never slept! Or not at the same hours than the common folks, that is… And, in fact, the notification was nothing less than an invitation — an invitation to come and meet up with him at eleven fifteen _sharp_ in the Plantation’s lobby.  
The work that Ford had needed her for was kinda done, the new update was already up and running by now, and these days he only needed her for a few reviews, from time to time. But usually, these meetings had always happened in his office, in one of the Behavior labs — sometimes very late — or a few times during a stroll in one of the park sector or another… Vivian enjoyed the walks the most.

Today, it would be the Plantation.

Some time before eleven, she had to get her head out of the long error logs of a host who had received Ford’s update, to take one of the shuttles going through the park underground tunnels but Vivian had been right on time. Also, this shuttle was wicked fast…

The Plantation was an oasis of peace, in a far-flung corner west of the park, and in which there was as many dressed up guests taking a break in their stay, as people in everyday clothes — _none of them carrying weapons_. No guns, or excesses at the Agave Plantation! And certainly not in the Big Boss presence… In the parlor, Vivian had met up with Ford who had then invited her to follow him in the patio to settle at a humble-looking table, further back from the others’ and the guests sitting there to eat — today, they would have lunch together.

Never did Ford have _invited her for lunch_.

It had been a kinda spooky prospect, to tell the truth. Yet, since he had enlisted her in this little team of his, in which she knew no-one before, Vivian had had opportunity to spend more time than she would have imagined with doctor Ford, taking heed and putting up with the remarks he had to make on her work and — _a lot more surprising_ — sometimes asking for hers. Always a bit uneasy before his semblance of calm paired with a firm temper, Vivian _played along_ still… If he didn’t always look like he made much of her opinion on many things, at least he esteemed her skills. Even if he liked to roast blithely. However, Vivian didn’t feel any form of favoritism in his intentions towards her, nor in this invitation; just curiosity, maybe a will to secure her loyalty. Ever since she was "fluttering too close to the sun", Vivian had found out that Delos’ interests and Ford’s weren’t always aligned, and that there was more or less a side to chose. In her case, Vivian hadn't quite had a choice; she was also defending interests which relied on her good relationship with Ford — as long as they were on the same side, some hosts wouldn’t suffer any whims from Narrative, or QA. And by _some_ , she meant only one — _Lawrence_.

An understanding supported by nothing else than a given word, though. But so far, Ford had kept his word.

He should have had the time to realise that Vivian wasn’t his ennemy by now, anyway — or so she hoped! — and, maybe she was right because today, he started to tell her about the new narrative in which he expected the newly updated hosts would reveal their potential. Ford didn’t talk a lot about it, and even less so outside the labs. But since the beginning of the meal, after having listened to Vivian summing up her results from this morning code review, his greatest concern had been over the topographical restructuring he was overseeing for the park and the integration of his new narrative. And, while they had received and started their dishes, Ford had been the one to break the hungry silence to continue, on an almost casual tone:

"Among the changes I designed, there will be… _this place_ …"

He gestured at the patio with his cutlery that barely rose from his frugal meal, without even giving a look at the place around. Vivian, on the contrary, took the time of her bite to take a careful look at the tiled alcoves, the sturdy brown wooden beams, the immaculate white paint on the walls… The place was perfect — what was there to change?

"What are you going to do with it?" she asked, quite surprised to be privy to what sounded very much like more secrets.

"Demolish it."

The answer took Vivian aback and she held her move to eat her last bite of meat.

"Dem… Why!? What’s wrong with it?"

"Oh, nothing," he admitted, straight. "I simply need the space."

Vivian gauged him, bewildered, but she felt herself nodding slowly.

"You won’t tell anyone, will you, miss Emerson?"

Vivian frowned, puzzled.

"No, sir," she replied, almost offended that he’d suggest otherwise. "Of course not!"

To whom would she tell all this anyway — her former colleagues?

During this past year, she must have come across them about fifteen times or so, and no-one was interested in what she was doing in her new team in those moments. No more than once, the day after her "transfer". And Vivian’s only answer was that she had been arbitrarily selected among the Behavior staff to fill some headcount because her three years length of service wasn’t enough to give her the luxury of a stable position yet. They hadn’t been hard to convince…

"I would like for the secret to last a little longer," he added while Vivian was finishing her plate with the help of a sip of wine. "Before the end of next month, everything should be ready for the official announcement…"

Vivian was listening, torn between impatience and anxiety; she didn’t quite know what this narrative in which he was putting so much work and care was all about.

"For that, I mean to organize a reception with only a few people, _a gala_ ," he explained. "What do you think?"

"It’s a good idea…"

She put her glass down on the table. 

"Who will be there?"

"The shareholders, the members of the board," Ford listed, with something in his voice and the subtle expression on his face that Vivian couldn’t help but to qualify as _amused_. "And, of course, hosts among those who will have a major role to play in this new story, others in minor roles, some for the service…"

And he left it at that. His gaze met Vivian’s who simply nodded.

"They’re going to ask me to retire, you know," he stated, suddenly. "The board…"

Vivian only raised her eyebrows, blown away by the reveal like by an explosion.

"What?!" she exclaimed, lowering her tone. "No, you… _That can’t be right!?_ "

She mouthed a few words before adding:

"Mrs Cullen won’t be authorizing that, you… you are… the creator, the _heart_ of this place, you…"

Ford had a quiet but sincere laugh that raised his shoulders and he looked down for a brief moment before raising his eyes to Vivian to whom he said, gentle if not grateful:

"You are kind, miss Emerson… But I know you for a better judge of character!"

Vivian blushed a little — both from the compliment and the criticism that followed. What did she know about any of that, after all? She had plenty of time to understand that Ford and Delos were agreeing less and less with each other. And he was the one at the top, the one knowing the secrets in high places, the Big Boss…

She frowned when a surge of defiance made her blood boil.

"And… and can’t you… refuse to… Can’t you _fight back?!_ "

One of the waiters in white clothes — a host, she knew as much — seemed to take his silence as a cue to come at their table to clear it.

"Was everything to your taste?" he asked, with a slight spanish lilt.

"Absolutely," Ford answered.

He then glanced questioningly at Vivian.

"Yes, it was," she approved to the waiter. "Thank you very much."

Apparently pleased, he smiled before asking:

"Will you be taking desserts?"

"No, thank you Diego," Ford declined. "That will be all for me. And you, miss Emerson?"

Vivian hesitated, stammered a few sounds, before she answered to Diego:

"Coffee, please?"

"At once."

Once Diego away, silence lasted a bit longer. Vivian knew Ford wouldn’t answer her question — no need to repeat it. Still, a thousand more were jostling in her head. What would happen to the hosts for which QA was pressing for more malleability than realism, what would happen to their storylines, to the narratives, to the park? And also, what would happen to her?

"What… What’s gonna happen for me, if… if they push you out?" she asked, bashful and tense. "Will I… get back to my previous post?"

Whether it was the case or not, Vivian didn’t know what she’d think of it. Right now, she was mostly afraid that Delos would seize the opportunity to "cut a few heads" associated too closely with Ford… He had for her a hint of a smile, a spot-on imitation of compassion — the corner of his eyes tipped off the worry her question caused him. Not for her, no doubt, Vivian wasn’t that naive! And she was the one who felt compassion for him; someone in high places was about to oust him, to take away his lifework, the one he had build and cherished with this partner he had ever so rarely brought up with her.

"You have been a valuable help to me throughout this whole year, miss Emerson," he said as an answer. "Also, I’ll be pleased if you could join us at this gala."

Vivian’s eyebrows raised in surprise.

"M-me?"

Faced with Ford’s seriousness, Vivian leaned back in her chair. It suddenly felt to her as if her muscles didn’t have enough strength left to keep her upright without a second of rest.

"But… why a… a simple tech like me?" she stammered, without avoiding his gaze. "Why me, while there will only be shareholders… and when even Sizem- _mister Sizemore_ won’t be invited? I…"

He was, after all, the one in charge of writing his main antagonist; Wyatt, along with his henchmen. Even if Vivian had never seen anything else than _charadesigns_ in Ford's office…

She kept quiet when a smile — amused for real, this time — wrinkled Ford’s face.

"Oh, mister Sizemore will be there," he corrected without loosing his smile. "But, truth be told, this invitation isn’t entirely for me. I also offer you an opportunity to see this host again, _your muse_ , one last time…"

The dread that these last words elicited brutally expelled all traces of glee rising in Vivian at the promise of seeing Lawrence again. It twisted her guts and made her hands shake on the edge of the table. She darted an anxious look — almost furious — at Ford.

"W-what… what do you mean?"

 _Was he going to get him retired as well after this gala?!_ He couldn’t do that! And also, _why?!_

"Y-you want to… to retire him?"

She couldn't even bring herself to say those words. Not without pain.

"These decisions won't be mine anymore, then, miss Emerson."

With a shiver of disgust, against herself and everything else, Vivian wondered what was the most cruel, in the end; a decommission… or to get victimized endlessly by his narrative and any shitbag he would come across?

She lowered her head, powerless, battered, _vanquished_ — Ford’s defeat was also hers.

"Come to the gala," he insisted, on an almost gentle tone. "I’m sure some of your questions will find answers."

In a slow nod, Vivian accepted.

"Thanks, sir…" she murmured.

Ford had another smile, more composed than she was herself.

"I will leave you to enjoy your coffee, miss Emerson. And regarding your latest assessment, there’s no rush… I won’t expect it until tomorrow."

She nodded again, and so did he before getting up calmly, although Vivian was feeling herself shaking — _vibrating_ — from the inside as if the bulldozers were already razing the place, and her along with it. She followed Ford with her gaze as he went away, coming across Diego who was bringing her coffee on a shining platter.

"Your coffee, _señorita._ "

The host put her cup carefully in front of her and Vivian took her eyes away from the lacquered wood and stone arch through which Ford had just disappeared, and she looked upon the waiter, as though she couldn’t understand a word; he didn’t express anything, simply looking at her peacefully.

"Would you like anything else?"

"N-no," she uttered with as much pain as if her throat was full of needles. "That will be all. Thanks, Diego…"

He acknowledged and turned around to walk away between the tables. Vivian faced her coffee and held her breath a moment, trying her best to get rid of the nerve-wracking feeling, clutching at her throat — around her, the world was turned upside down again…


End file.
